


Recompense

by sonofabiscuit77



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Infidelity, M/M, Manhandling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabiscuit77/pseuds/sonofabiscuit77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff is a powerful married CEO with a secret boyfriend, Jensen is that secret boyfriend, but Jensen is a whole lot more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recompense

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a timestamp prequel to my J2 fic, [The Long Seduction](http://sonofabiscuit77.livejournal.com/48264.html), though, more accurately, this is pure self-indulgence, written for my own perverted pleasure. You totally don't need to have read The Long Seduction to read this.

“I expected you three hours ago,” Jensen says as soon as he answers the door. He's pouting, expression a little mulish. He takes a step backwards as soon as Jeff steps over the threshold, just out of Jeff’s reach. Deliberate, no doubt, Jensen does so love his little games.

Jeff follows him inside, taking the opportunity to have a good look around, see what his money has bought. This is the first time he’s seen the place. Barry, his personal lawyer, had arranged it all directly with Jensen. He'd just had Barry wire the money directly into Jensen's account and let Jensen get on with it.

Truthfully, it's a crazy place for a kid just out of law school - a Manhattan loft apartment worth over a million - but it's what Jensen had wanted, and Jeff always likes to give his boy what he wants. Besides, it's a great investment, and seeing it now, he has to admit that Jensen’s done a great job with the place. It's nothing like any of his own houses, nothing like his wife’s showy extravagance, all those freaky Lladro figurines cluttering up every damn surface and crystal chandeliers hanging from every ceiling. No, the genuine hardwood floors, old-fashioned simple furniture and quality artwork show simple and good taste while not giving anything away about their owner. The only part of the room that does show anything of Jensen’s personality is the desk in the corner, cluttered with papers and files and Jensen’s laptop computer.

“Well, what do you think?” Jensen asks him. He’s standing over a long mahogany sideboard, mixing drinks.

Jeff drops his bag onto the floor and crosses the room towards him. He puts one hand on Jensen’s shoulder to tug him around, needing to get a good look at him. It’s been three weeks. Way too long.

“I hate it when you’re late,” Jensen says, still pouting a little. “It screws up all my plans.”

Jeff cups the back of Jensen’s neck, drags his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He puts his other hand against the wall, moves in closer, pinning Jensen in place.

“Change your plans,” he says.

The pout slides off Jensen's face as he stares up at him. He swallows and Jeff follows the bob of his Adam's apple. He licks his lips and Jeff's gaze is drawn inexorably to his mouth. He can’t tell if it's all involuntary, just Jensen responding to his proximity, or if Jensen’s deliberately playing with him again, driving him crazy in the way only he can. His fingers caress the sharp angles of Jensen's jawline and the tendons in his throat, feeling the slight scrape of stubble under his fingertips. Jensen feels so fragile like this, his big hand huge on Jensen's face. It would be so easy to hurt him, to put bruises on this face, to spoil the perfect line of his profile, make it so no one else would look at him and want him.

He cradles Jensen’s cheek, brushes his thumb over the warm pretty pink of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s tongue flicks out, wetting the pad of his thumb, and Jeff's stomach twists and plummets. This is why, he thinks. This is why he puts up with Jensen and his games and his demands, because there is no one else in the entire world who can reduce him to this needy desperate wreck with such a tiny gesture.

Still though, Jensen is not in charge, not all the time, and sometimes he needs to be reminded of that.

He fists his fingers in Jensen’s t-shirt and shoves him back against the fancy-ass sideboard he paid such a goddamn fortune for, hearing the crystal glasses and decanter rattle under the impact.

“Christ, Jeff, you’ll break--” Jensen starts to say, but Jeff cuts off the words with his mouth.

“Where’s the bedroom, Jensen?” he breathes out when he finally breaks the kiss.

Jensen’s eyes narrow. He’s attempting to look pissed off – he probably is pissed off – Jensen’s a pissy aggravating little shit at the best of times, but he’s also aroused right now. The colour is high in his cheeks and the green has almost vanished from his eyes. Jeff knows how Jensen looks when he’s turned on, and his boy is definitely turned on.

Jensen lets out a tight annoyed breath, and elbows Jeff aside as he pushes past him. He makes a show of smoothing down the front of his shirt, deliberately not looking at Jeff. Jeff watches him, half-amused and half-annoyed by this little show, but he lets Jensen enjoy himself, lets him have his little moment of drama, instead taking the opportunity to shrug off his overcoat and toss it over the back of the couch.

He scans the room again, gaze lingering on the sideboard, the glasses of expensive whiskey Jensen had been in the middle of pouring for them before Jeff distracted him. He could really go for a drink right now, but there’s something else he wants first, far more than a drink.

“Jensen, the bedroom,” he says.

Jensen glances up at him through his eyelashes, it’s the same look he’s been using on Jeff for far more years than Jeff cares to remember, and the accompanying scowl of irritation is not fooling Jeff at all. He takes a step towards Jensen, and Jensen continues to hold his gaze, the blush rising in his cheeks. Jensen licks his lips and this time Jeff just knows it’s involuntary. He curls his fingers tightly around Jensen’s bicep, and says very slowly and deliberately, “Show me where the bedroom is. Now.”

 

 

 

Jensen’s bed is huge and sturdy and made for fucking, which is at it should be, considering Jeff paid more for it than he’s ever paid for a bed before. Jeff leans back against the soft headboard, pleased to note the wrought iron bedposts, perfectly sized for the handcuffs and restraints Jensen keeps in his nightstand drawer for special occasions.

Jeff unbuttons his dress shirt and unknots his tie, dropping it to the floor by the bed. He shifts his ass, getting comfortable, and slides his hand down to cup his dick through his pants. He watches appreciatively as Jensen saunters towards the bed and stops a couple of feet away, hands resting on the waistband of his jeans and gaze locked on Jeff's face.

“Take it off,” Jeff tells him, "all of it."

Jensen would never admit it, but he loves to be ordered around. It’s one of the reasons why they work so well together, why they’ve never gotten bored of each other, even after ten years. Though, sometimes Jensen doesn’t do what he says; sometimes he likes to put up a fight. Sometimes he likes to force Jeff into a place where Jeff has to make him do it, where Jeff is forced to punish him for not behaving. Jeff likes those occasions, he likes them a whole lot. But tonight he’s too damn tired to deal with a recalcitrant, disobedient Jensen; tonight he wants Jensen to do exactly what he wants when he tells him to do it.

Jensen must sense this because he doesn’t draw it out any longer, just pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside. And this is another reason why they work so damn well together; Jensen always knows just how far he can push him. The kid has an uncanny ability to know exactly what Jeff needs and how to give it to him. Jeff has had a lot of sexual partners over the years, both male and female, but none of them have captivated him so entirely as Jensen has, none of them complement him or challenge him like Jensen.

Jensen takes another step towards the bed. He bites his lip, and Jeff feels his dick pulse and thicken as his gaze lingers over him, over his plush wet mouth and flushed cheeks, over the firm lean muscles of his chest and dusty pink nipples. Jensen flicks the buttons of his fly open with casual slowness, not taking his eyes off Jeff, like he's daring Jeff to look away. But Jeff isn’t going to look away, not when he has all this in front of him. His boy, even more gorgeous and desirable now than he was at sixteen, the day Jeff first set eyes on him at that employee picnic in Dallas all those years ago.

Jensen’s wearing black boxer briefs under his jeans, just how Jeff likes it, the kind that sculpt his ass and outline the thick swell of his dick. Jeff watches appreciatively as Jensen climbs onto the bed on all fours and crawls towards him.

“Missed me?” he says with a smirk, looming over Jeff, knees either side of Jeff’s thighs.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea,” Jeff growls. He skims a hand down Jensen’s back, tracing the bumps and dips of his spine. Jensen arches like a cat into the touch and leans down to lick a line across Jeff’s cheek, the stubble rasping against his tongue. Jeff lets his head roll back and Jensen kisses his jaw, his throat, lingering over his pulse point. His voice is a rumble against Jeff’s skin, sending delicious tremors through Jeff’s bloodstream.

“I missed you too, Jeff. I hate it when you’re not here. I hate not seeing you for so long.”

Jeff blinks at him and slides his hand down to cup Jensen’s ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh.

“Show me how much,” he says.

Jensen’s mouth curls into a wicked grin and he ducks his head to nose at Jeff’s crotch. He catches the zipper in his teeth and tugs it down. Jeff exhales, watching him through half-lowered lids. He never gets tired of that particular party trick.

Jensen is a cock-sucking prodigy. Jeff never comes so hard or so fast as he does when he’s with Jensen, and the fact that he hasn’t seen the kid for three weeks means that there’s no way in the world he’s going to last long first time around. He rests his hand on Jensen’s head, feeling the shape of his skull under his splayed fingers, as Jensen bobs up and down on his dick. Jensen pauses with his mouth stuffed full of cock and angles his head to look up at Jeff, eyes wide and sex hazy. He blinks, a slow-motion swoop up and down of his long dark eyelashes, and Jeff feels his stomach duck and roll, a powerful swoop of lust and desire that leaves him breathless.

Jeff swears under his breath, thrusts harder, feeling the head of his cock bump against the back of Jensen’s throat. Jensen barely flinches, taking it all without complaint. Slowly, he draws his head up and slides his mouth off, a translucent thread of saliva hanging from his shiny lips to the blood red head of Jeff’s cock. He glances up at Jeff again and ostentatiously licks his lips, Jeff’s cock resting against his mouth like the rim of a beer bottle, like it’s something he’s about to take another swig of. Jeff swallows hard and stares down at him, mesmerized. His cock feels painfully swollen, his balls drawn up and aching with need. Jensen grins at him, evil and desirable in equal parts, and swipes his tongue over the slit, does it again, and again, and Jeff’s shuddering and shaking with the effort of not coming when he feels Jensen’s mouth swallow him again, all of his considerable length in one huge glorious mouthful.

“Jesus, sweetheart, what you do to me...” He doesn’t get the rest of the words out because his orgasm rips through him, pumping out his release into Jensen’s warm waiting mouth.

Jensen waits until the aftershocks and twitches fade away and then he glides his mouth up and off Jeff’s softening cock. He draws the back of his hand over his puffy pink lips. There are stray drops of come on his fingers and he sucks them off one by one, watching Jeff with a cocky smile.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me one day, you know that,” Jeff says. He collapses back against the headboard, reaches out to pet the side of Jensen’s face, card his fingers messily through his hair. “Death by Jensen Ackles, cocksucker extraordinaire.”

Jensen’s smile gets wider; he moves to straddle Jeff properly, sitting in his lap. He cradles Jeff’s face in his hands, tilts Jeff’s head back so he can look down into his eyes.

“You’d love it, to go out like that,” he says.

“Mm, only with you, baby,” Jeff says.

 

**

 

“I looked at that contract for you,” Jensen says the next day. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar eating the eggs and sausage Jeff cooked because God forbid Jensen do anything resembling housework or cooking; his boy is high-maintenance.

“Which one?”

“Maitland and Cross,” Jensen says. He slides off the stool, pads across the room to the desk in the corner. Jeff watches him, admires his ass in those tight boxers, feeling his cock start to take interest again. He hasn’t had chance to fuck that ass yet, still trying to decide whether the bed, the couch, the shower or that fancy-ass dining table would be the best venue for it. They all have their good points.

“Jeff,” Jensen says.

Jeff blinks. Jensen’s watching him with a smirk, doubtless knowing exactly what Jeff was thinking about. He’s holding a file and he waggles it in the air as he walks back towards him. He drops it onto the counter.

“I’ve highlighted the parts you need to take another look at," Jensen says. "There are a couple of clauses in there that I think you should query. It’s just their standard terms I know, but you’re the client and you’re not just any client. Your business is worth a lot more to them than it is to you. Go back to them and demand better. That’s what I would do. I’m surprised your legal people haven’t already done that.”

Jeff snorts and gives the folder a disgusted look. He glances at Jensen who’s looking a little smug, arms folded across his naked chest where he stands propped up against the breakfast bar.

“This is why you need to work for me. I keep telling you that,” he says.

Jensen makes a face. “Dallas? No freaking way. I’m not living there again.”

“We got a legal office here in New York. It’s tiny, I know, but if you agreed to come join us, then I’d expand it. I'd probably move a lot of the Dallas guys there, get some more people in,” he says.

He means it. Jensen is freakishly smart, probably the smartest person Jeff knows. Sure, he only passed the bar last year, (first time of course), and he’s still only in his first year of real work, but Jensen knows Jeff’s business almost as well as he does. He’s been looking at contracts and acting as an unofficial advisor for years. These days, Jeff never likes to agree any kind of deal without talking it through with Jensen first. It's yet another reason why he gives the kid every damn thing he asks for.

If Jensen worked for him then not only would he have all that scary intelligence devoted 100% to him and his company, but he’d have Jensen too. Having Jensen around the office during the day would definitely improve his day, though it might be harder for him to actually get any work done with such a huge distraction on hand. He'd also be able to keep tabs on the kid much more easily, see who he hung out with, who he spoke to and if he showed an interest in anybody else. Jeff's pretty sure that Jensen has always been faithful to him, Jensen's far too smart to fuck up an arrangement like this, but people who look like Jensen are never short of admirers.

“You’d really do that?” Jensen asks.

“To get you working for me? Yeah, I would,” he says. He pours a mug of coffee, holds it out to Jensen who unfolds his arms and takes a couple of steps towards him. He’s still looking skeptical, eyes narrowed like he doesn’t quite believe it.

Jeff hands him the coffee, lets his fingers linger. He caresses the backs of Jensen's knuckles with his thumb, slides his hand slowly up Jensen’s naked arm, seeing the golden hairs rise in his wake.

Jensen shivers at the touch and Jeff leans in to whisper in his ear, “Don’t you want to work for me, baby?”

Jensen draws his head back, regards him with an unreadable sort of a look.

“Don’t I do that already?” he says. “Unpaid, of course.”

Jeff chuckles, drops his hand to his side. “Unpaid? What do you call your law school money?”

"I told you I'll pay you back for that. We have a contract."

Jeff shakes his head at him, smiling indulgently. He'd given into Jensen's ridiculous request for a contract for his law school tuition, thinking it was kinda cute at the time, Jensen acting like he was a real lawyer already, drawing up the contract himself, then having them both sign it in the presence of witnesses.

"And this place?" He gestures around him, coffee almost sloshing over the rim of his mug.

"I love this place," Jensen says. "You know I'm grateful, right? For everything Jeff. And you know--" he hesitates, eyes wide and expression uncharacteristically open. He draws closer to Jeff, one hand going out to cradle Jeff's cheek, "You know I do love you."

Jeff swallows, stares down at him, surprised by the sudden change of mood and the deadly serious look on Jensen's face. He puts down his coffee mug, hooks his arms around Jensen's back and pulls him in.

"I know that, sweetheart," he says. He feels overwhelmed, Jensen is usually so closed off, Jensen doesn't say these sorts of things. But Jensen is nothing if not unpredictable, it's one of the many things Jeff loves about him, and yes, he does love him, a lot more than he probably should. Sometimes he thinks about how his life would be if he'd never met Jensen, and his blood runs cold. "Hey, listen to me - whatever you want, okay, baby? Just tell me, don't keep me guessing. Let me give it to you. Wanna keep my boy happy."

Jensen tilts his head back, blinks up at him, expression thoughtful. Jeff stares down at him, heart beating fast in his chest, waiting for Jensen to speak. Slowly Jensen smiles at him and tugs out of the embrace, sliding down Jeff's body until he's kneeling in front of him. He curls his thumbs in Jeff’s sleep pants and bites his lip, looking up at Jeff with wide green eyes. From this angle, lit by the bright morning sunshine coming through the windows behind them, he looks younger than his twenty six years, his freckles more prominent on his cheeks, his eyelashes feathery dark smudges against his pale skin.

“What I want is for you to fuck me, Jeff,” he says. “I want to know that you’ve been here – you’ve been inside me – I want to feel it every time I sit down.” His lips part and his tongue comes out, flicks across his mouth, teasing and deliberate. "Want to feel you for days."

Jeff swallows and stares down at him, nodding dumbly. Jensen grins and gets to his feet. Tugging Jeff by the waistband of his pants, he guides him back towards the bedroom.

The kid is going to be the death of him and that’s no mistake.


End file.
